


James T. Kirk, Pop Star

by herinfiniteeyes



Series: Pop Star Series [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dirty Talk, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herinfiniteeyes/pseuds/herinfiniteeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk is an Adam Lambert-esque gay pop star. McCoy is a med student by day, bartender by night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	James T. Kirk, Pop Star

The club was dark and packed with bodies sweating and swaying together to the loud music pounding out through the speakers. Pretty boys in tight white briefs that revealed more than they actually hid were suspended from the ceiling in what looked to be huge birdcages. They entertained the people at tables set back against the walls by calling out to flirt and tease.

McCoy knew they easily made at least twice as much in tips than he himself made each night, but you'd never see him in one of those cages on display like that. He hadn't been pretty enough and thanks to high school football, never scrawny enough to be a twink.

He stood behind the bar lit by neon blue lights that glowed in the nearly pitch-black club and expertly slung bottles around as he served drinks that were more sugar than booze. No skin off his back if these boys wanted to drink froufrou little pink drinks with the little umbrellas and plastic monkeys. McCoy preferred a nice cold beer, but he wouldn't indulge in that tonight.

No, he'd been up way too long to drink without getting knocked out by the alcohol. He was going on about forty-eight hours without sleep thanks to his shift rotations at the hospital and the massive amount of studying he'd had to do before his anatomy class. He only had about two more hours at the bar until he could go home, take a hot shower, and collapse into bed for about six hours before he had to get up and do it all over again.

The music was loud and obnoxious, and the deep bass beats were giving him a headache, but at least it was keeping him awake. If he took another No-Doz, he'd end up too shaky to pour the drinks.

There was a lull of activity at the bar as D.J. Dujour (McCoy snorted inwardly whenever he had to work with this assclown) announced a wet briefs contest. He leaned back against the high bar and folded his arms across his chest to watch the action going on onstage.

Just as his eyelids started to get heavy, a flurry of activity at the door caught his attention. He stood up from his slouching position and watched as an entourage (because that's really the only thing to call a large group of people so obviously following one guy as if he were Jesus preaching the good word) made their way to the bar. The man in front looked like a twink all grown up. He was slender, medium-height, and had dark glasses on that hid half his face and a long leather trenchcoat he wore over some sort of Gwar-meets-Elton John get up.

What a pretentious tool.

McCoy may have stood up straight as the man made his way to the bar with the group of trendy kids covered in black from head to toe, but he still had his arms crossed against his chest and he knew his left eyebrow was hitched up in bemusement. When Mr. Awesome finally reached the bar stools, he twirled his ostentatious cane over his shoulder, where a slavering lackey was ready to seize it like a royal scepter. McCoy hid a derisive snort behind a quick cough. The disciples melted into the background and disappeared without a word.

"Hey there," Mr. The-World-Obviously-Wants-To-Lick-My-Ass said with a charming grin full of perfectly bleached white teeth. "What's good tonight?"

McCoy rolled his eyes and let his arms drop loosely against his sides. "Depends on your definition of 'good' is, I s'pose," he replied.

The man pursed lips so obviously made to be wrapped around a cock and removed his sunglasses. His eyes were heavily outlined with black eyeliner. Instead of looking entirely ridiculous, the make up actually accentuated eyes as bright and neon blue as the lights in the bar. He thought he caught a glint of amusement flashing in those eyes, but it came and went like a flash.

After a moment's consideration, the man said, "I think I'll have a Screaming Orgasm." As if that wasn't predictable enough, he actually winked and leered at McCoy as he said it.

Using all of his muscle control to stop himself from rolling his eyes, he turned away to grab a glass. As he poured and mixed, the guy leaned forward into his space. He smelled like a mixture of make-up, leather, and something vaguely sweet.

All in all, it wasn't a bad smell. It was actually kind of...good. But that didn't really make up for the pretentious image this guy was projecting.

"So, what's happening tonight?" he asked with an arch of a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

McCoy slid the glass across the short distance between them and Mr. Spectacular pushed a credit card toward him in return.

"Uh, well, there's the usual stuff. I'm not sure what you're looking for," McCoy replied grumpily, as if every word was begrudgingly ripped from his mouth. He frowned and looked around to see if anybody else needed a drink, but things were getting quiet as it neared two o'clock. It was a Wednesday night, after all.

The guy smiled at him, and it looked real. He was taken aback by the genuine look on the guy's face after all the obvious peacocking around. "I'm not really sure what I'm looking for either," he said as he looked McCoy up and down. "Though I might have found it anyway."

McCoy didn't even try to hide the snort this time. He turned away from the guy to set up his tab at the register and decided to get a head start on washing the dirty dishes behind the bar. He could feel the guy watching every move he made, and it irritated McCoy to be so aware of him.

Just then, a popular song came on and there were a couple of whoops and hollers in the crowd as people started moving ecstatically to the beat. He didn't listen to this kind of music, so he had no idea what flavor of the month performed it. He was just fine ignoring it, thank you very much.

He finished loading the small dishwasher at the end of the bar and turned around to see the lone man looking at him with wide eyes before his electric blue eyes shot to a spot somewhere next to McCoy's head. "Didja need another?" he called down the bar.

The man bit his lip and looked down at the water remains in his glass before he nodded. McCoy wiped his hands on a towel as he walked over to make him another drink. The man was suddenly squirming and refusing to make eye contact. That was strange. McCoy, ever blunt to the point of painful awkwardness, quirked an eyebrow and asked, "What's your problem all of a sudden?"

Those blue eyes snapped up to his and looked slightly panicked before he just lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "You don't know who I am, do you?" he finally asked. His tone wasn't arrogant or insulting; rather, it sounded tentative and a little bit relieved.

McCoy had both eyebrows up now. "Should I?" he asked.

The guy shrugged again. "This is my song," he finally said. His gaze dropped to the bar top and he lifted the fresh drink, draining it in one gulp with a barely perceivable grimace.

He sounded so reluctant to admit it that McCoy couldn't bring himself to say something sarcastic in reply. After a beat of silence, he finally said, "Cool." He could tell this guy didn't want to elicit a big reaction with his admission, not that McCoy was a big reaction kind of guy anyway.

He watched the guy's shoulders relax as he set down the now empty glass. "So. What's a straight guy like you doing working in a gay bar?" the guy asked.

McCoy hid his surprise at this guy's assumption behind sarcastic amusement. "What makes you think I'm straight?" he asked.

The guy looked slightly embarrassed, but quickly covered it with a cocky grin. "Oh, I dunno...my gaydar is as silent as tomb. You're not checking anyone out."

McCoy couldn't help but huff in amusement despite the ridiculousness of this conversation. "Is that all?" he asked.

The man licked his lips and his eyes danced as he looked him over again. "You sure as hell dress like a straight guy, that's for sure."

McCoy ignored the last comment. "What's your name, kid?"

The guy's eyes widened. "'Kid?' What are you, like twenty-six?" he asked incredulously.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Twenty-seven. You look like you're eighteen under all that crap on your face."

Blue Eyes bit his bottom lip and suddenly McCoy wanted to be the one biting it instead. Those lips definitely called for biting and fucking.

"My name's Jim, and I'm twenty-five, thanks. And you are?"

McCoy grinned despite himself and rested his forearms on the bar top. "I'm Leo, but most people call me by my last name."

Jim leaned closer into McCoy's space. "What's your last name?"

"Oh, McCoy," he replied. That good smell was back in his senses and he found he really didn't mind.

Blue eyes went sultry and the smile on Jim's face turned almost predatory. "I think I like you, McCoy. You're different."

McCoy snorted. "Yeah, different. I'm an asshole. Don't bother."

Jim leaned on his hand and quirked his eyebrow in challenge. "Oh yeah? Maybe I like assholes."

The dishwasher beeped to let him know it was done with its cycle, and he looked around to see people starting to leave. The music switched to the soft hits radio station as people started to stack chairs and clean up. "Looks like it's closing time," he said.

Jim looked over his shoulder to see his people walking over to meet him. He immediately stiffened and the playful flirtatious smile turned into a fake mask. McCoy turned away to start cleaning up the bar, but he could still hear their conversation behind him.

"They're closing. Let's go back to the hotel. Spock said he ordered you a Swedish massage," the Asian one with a stupid faux-hawk said.

"Yes, don't forget you've got a meeting tomorrow with the label," a tall, classy black woman said in a tone that obviously implied that she had some control over Jim's schedule.

"Guys, I think I'm gonna do my own thing tonight. Cancel the massage, or hell, let Chekov take it," he heard Jim say.

Faux-Hawk sounded nervous when he said, "But what about the-"

Jim interrupted him. "Seriously. Just...get lost, will ya? Go do something that doesn't have anything to do with me for once." He sounded slightly irritated.

Finally, they got the hint and left. McCoy finished closing up the bar and ran Jim's card through. When he turned to hand him the receipt, Jim's grin was an interesting mix between shy and lascivious. "Soooo..." he began.

McCoy recognized a cue when he saw one. He sighed and took the signed receipt to shove it in the bank envelope. "I'll meet you out front in ten," he said.

Jim nodded and his eyes went bright. McCoy pretended not to notice as he took the bank envelope to the back office to put in the safe. He said goodbye to the other guys and shook his head when one of the dancers latched onto him with a tipsy hopeful smile and whispered a dirty proposition in his ear. When he extricated himself from the pretty boy, he found his shirt covered in glitter. Great.

By the time he got up front and grabbed his coat and keys, he was already starting to wonder what the fuck he was doing taking this kid home with him. He would almost definitely be kicking himself for this in the morning.

Still, he walked to the front of the club and saw Jim leaning back against the wall next to the entrance. He looked up and straightened when McCoy stepped outside. McCoy gestured for Jim to follow him as he turned to walk to his car parked down the street.

The street was damp and dark, and there was a decent chill in the air. McCoy took a deep breath of the fresh night air and exhaled loudly. Somehow, his exhaustion had melted into the back of his mind as he'd started talking to Jim.

It was probably the eyes. Or the lips. Most likely the lips. The kid was pretty, and he definitely looked like he knew his way around a bed. He shook his head and glanced over at Jim. "So do you live around here?" he asked.

Jim grinned and shook his head. "I'm just here to talk about extending my contract," he replied.

McCoy nodded in understanding and they walked the rest of the way to his car in silence. When they reached it, he unlocked the passenger door and opened it for Jim, who beamed at him like McCoy had just given him a puppy or something. He shrugged and shut the door before walking around to the driver's side.

The drive to his apartment was thankfully short in the frigid car. They walked the two flights up to his apartment and Jim pushed past him the moment he opened the door. He tossed his coat over the back of the couch and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer while Jim wandered around to look. "Want something to drink? All I've got is milk, beer, or bourbon. The tap water's nasty."

Jim turned back and shrugged. "Beer's good." He collapsed onto the couch and scratched his cheek. "Nice place ya got here. What's with all the medical shit?"

McCoy returned from the kitchen and handed him an open bottle of beer before crossing to sit down in the his big leather easy chair. He propped his feet up on the table and Jim did the same. He looked kind of ridiculous all dressed up like some...well, pop star, sitting on McCoy's lumpy secondhand couch in his dusty ass apartment. "I'm in med school," he replied as he took a sip of his beer and sighed happily. He let his head drop back against the chair and kicked off his shoes.

"Oh, cool," he said, mimicking McCoy's earlier response to his admission to being a pop singer.

Jim took a long drink of beer before he leaned forward and set it on the table. He stood up briefly to remove his coat and gloves. McCoy sent up a silent thank you that he didn't have that ridiculous cane with him. When Jim sat back down, the tight black shirt stretched across his shoulders and allowed McCoy to see that he wasn't actually as slender as he'd originally thought. The kid actually had some muscle goin' on beneath all that stupid stuff.

Jim sighed wearily and scratched his face again. He looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Please tell me you don't have a rash beneath all that make up," he said sarcastically.

Jim chuckled and took another drink of beer. "Nah, it just gets itchy after awhile. I should probably wash it off soon anyway."

McCoy relaxed deeper into his seat. "Bathroom's down the hall, only door on the left. Take a shower or whatever," he offered.

Jim looked surprised. "We haven't even fucked yet and you're offering up your shower?" he asked.

McCoy's brow wrinkled. "Uh, yeah. Besides, if I wanted to fuck someone wearing make up, I'd just fuck a woman."

He briefly wondered if he'd offended Jim, but he didn't worry for long because Jim laughed and stood up. "Sure. I know your type," he said.

That gave McCoy pause. "And what 'type' is that, exactly?"

Jim grinned down at him. "You're totally one of those guys who only fucks in a relationship." McCoy was amazed at how much cynicism he was able to pack into one word. "But I guess I'm here, so I can probably assume you take a guy home if it's been awhile. Has it been awhile, Leo?"

Jim's face was so smug that McCoy instantly wanted to tell him just how wrong he was, but he decided that showing him would be much funner, so he just sipped his beer and raised his eyebrow in challenge. "Well, now I guess that'd depend on your definition of 'awhile,'" he replied in a tone laced with amusement.

Jim's grin morphed into something a helluva lot dirtier as he crossed to hover just over McCoy's chair. He bent forward and braced his arms on the chair arms, surrounding McCoy with that scent of leather and sweet. Jim's head dropped low, just next to his ear. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he murmured, his hot breath brushing against the nape of McCoy's neck.

He suppressed a shiver along his spine and turned his face into Jim's to respond. He caught Jim's eyes and licked his lips deliberately. "That's pretty cocky talk from such a pretty boy," he said.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Jim pushed himself up with a smirk. "You think I'm pretty, huh?"

McCoy rolled his eyes and drained the rest of his beer. "Just go take a shower. I don't want your Maybelline all over my sheets," he said in mock irritation.

Jim's eyes were bright with amusement as he began to unbutton his shirt and walk toward the hallway. McCoy stood up and went to the linen closet to throw a clean towel at his head. "Don't get water all over my floor, either!"

He made his way to the bedroom as Jim walked into the bathroom to start the shower. The shameless kid didn't even bother to shut the door, but McCoy admitted that it would be pretty pointless for him to be modest when they both knew they were about to get naked and fuck.

While the water ran in the bathroom, McCoy pulled the bottle of lube from his nightstand and tucked it under one of the pillows for easy access. He was tossing some clothes onto the chair in the corner when he heard Jim start singing the song from the club. McCoy had to admit that he had a good singing voice; it was strong and clear.

The shower shut off and McCoy turned to see Jim leaning against his bedroom door, dripping wet and barely holding on to the towel slung low over his hips. He looked so much better without all the shit on his face. He watched a drop of water run from Jim's collarbone, all the way down his tight chest and abs. McCoy's mouth watered just thinking about following that same path with his tongue.

Jim smirked and dropped the towel. "See something you like?" he said with a flutter of ridiculously long eyelashes.

McCoy rolled his eyes at the cliche question and reached up to pull his shirt off. He tossed it in the proximity of his laundry basket and turned back to stare at all the toned, naked skin in front of him. He let Jim see his open appreciation as his hands dropped to the button-fly on his jeans, but suddenly Jim moved forward and reached out to bat his hands away. "Fuck no, I'm doing that. Button fly jeans are fucking hot."

McCoy raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and watched hungrily as Jim knelt at his feet and undid the buttons way too slowly. He dropped his head back and stared up at the ceiling. "While we're still young, kid," he growled.

He felt Jim shudder and looked down to see that smug glint in his eye. "Oooh, commando. Sexy. Don't worry old man, I know it's been awhile. You just lie back and let Jimmy take care of you," he said before he obscenely licked his lips and bent forward to blow hot, damp air across the erection still trapped inside his jeans.

McCoy growled wordlessly. "Okay, that's enough," he said and gripped the short hair on the back of Jim's head and hauled him up to his feet. Jim's eyes were wide and shockingly blue as McCoy manhandled him into a rough kiss that was all heat and teeth and need.

He was about to show this kid who was boss.

Jim quickly jumped into the kiss, pushing his tongue into McCoy's mouth and wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. When Jim started rutting against McCoy's half-exposed cock and moaning into his mouth, McCoy roughly pushed him back until he sprawled out across the wide bed. His lips were wet and red, and his dick was rock hard and pulsing with his rapid heartbeat. He immediately followed Jim down onto the bed and went back to biting those lips that would be wrapped around his dick sooner rather than later.

When Jim returned the kiss with open eagerness and wrapped one bare leg around McCoy's waist, McCoy pulled back and moved to clamp his earlobe between his teeth. "Look at you, spread out on my bed like a needy little cockslut. You think I'm a choir boy? Let's see if you still think that when I'm balls deep in your ass and you're begging me to let you come," he said darkly.

Jim shuddered and a moan was wrenched from deep in his chest. "Yesssss," he whimpered helplessly as his hips jacked up to rub against McCoy's dick.

McCoy's grin was dark and a little bit patronizing as he looked down at the blue eyes made heavy with lust. "You sure gave up the control real fast, didn't you?" Jim whined deep in his throat but didn't say anything. "I bet you'll even like it when I tell you to suck my cock, won't you?"

Jim's eyes drifted closed as he let out a long, needy moan. McCoy bit along his neck, sucking and marking him without remorse. He pulled up and sat back on his haunches to stare down at the pretty boy beneath him. "Suck my cock, Jim. Wrap those pretty fucking lips around my cock and show me how good you are," he said as he pulled Jim up and forward by his hair again.

Jim went all too willingly, his mouth already open and eager as he reached out to shove McCoy's jeans down out of the way. Once his cock sprang free, Jim's mouth was on him like a hot, wet vacuum. McCoy pushed up so he was on his knees now, giving Jim a better angle without letting go of his hair.

He let Jim show off his impressively skilled tongue for a few minutes before he pulled back and pressed on Jim's jaw with his thumbs on either side of his face. "Let me fuck that mouth," he ground out.

Jim's moan could be felt around the head of McCoy's dick as he shoved it back into his mouth. It was hot and wet, and Jim occasionally hollowed his cheeks to give him some good suction. He had complete control over Jim right now, and he could tell Jim was loving every minute of it.

When McCoy had enough, he pulled away and pushed Jim back down onto the bed. He used one hand to grip Jim's wrists above his head and press them into the pillow as he bent down to taste himself in Jim's mouth. They kissed hungrily while McCoy ran a rough hand up Jim's torso, stopping to stroke and push, pinch and press wherever he felt like it. He found Jim's nipples were sensitive enough to elicit a deep moan each time he tweaked them, so he pulled away from their kisses to lick and suck a path across Jim's chest, who just moaned and jacked his hips against McCoy's in an attempt to find friction on his cock.

McCoy slid down Jim's body until he had his feet on the floor at the end of the bed. He stepped out of his jeans and reached down to pull Jim toward the end of the bed, where he knelt on the floor and brought Jim's legs up to rest on his shoulders. Jim's eyes were squinting down at him until all McCoy could see was a narrow sliver of that hot, bright blue.

He held Jim's gaze as he slowly bent down to take his cock in his mouth. Jim's moan could almost be mistaken for pain if it weren't for the fact that he was trying with all his strength to thrust up into McCoy's mouth, but McCoy pressed his hips into the mattress and went to town on Jim's dick. He didn't let up until he knew Jim was close to coming, and then he banded his fingers around the base to stop him. "Oh no, you'll come from my cock or not at all," he promised darkly.

Jim's full-body shudder caused a satisfied and smug reaction in McCoy's chest as he climbed back up onto the bed and over Jim's shaking body. He leaned down and pushed his tongue deep into Jim's mouth and felt Jim's arms and legs wrap around him like steel bands. He reached beneath the pillow for the bottle of lube and located it quickly. Once he had it, he propped himself on his left side and brought Jim up onto his side so he could sling Jim's leg across his hip. This was to allow his fingers access to prepare him.

He popped the top on the bottle of lube and generously coated his fingers before he Jim into another hot, wet kiss. His fingers probed Jim's tight hole as he spread the lube around and inside. As he stretched Jim for his cock, Jim moaned and writhed, fucking back onto his fingers and begging for more. "Moremoremore...unnnggghh..." he panted.

McCoy sucked on a spot below his ear. "That's not the right way to ask," he taunted.

A high-pitched whine flew from Jim's mouth as he pressed the side of his face into the pillow and mumbled, "Please, fuck, please! Please fucking fuck me!"

Once he decided Jim was ready, he slid back on top of him and brought his legs up and over his shoulders once more. He held eye contact with Jim as he positioned himself and pushed in, not as slowly as he maybe should have, but slow enough not to cause damage or undue pain. Still, Jim was very vocal with his approval.

He waited a beat to let Jim adjust to him before he began to move. Jim's back arched up off the bed and he bit his already abused bottom lip. His eyes were screwed shut now, and while McCoy found he missed that shock of blue, he didn't say anything. He pounded into Jim, fucking him hard and fast. He got up on his knees for a better angle and got balls deep, just as he'd promised.

When Jim opened his eyes to look up at him and demand more, McCoy smirked and gave him a particularly deep thrust, skimming his prostate on the way out. "You love this, don't you? You love my fucking cock up your ass. I bet you'd like to ride me, wouldn't you? Do you wanna ride my cock, Jim?"

Jim's tongue weakly tried to wet his lips before he answered, but he looked too lost in what was happening to have much strength. "Yeah, yeah," he replied weakly.

McCoy stopped thrusting long enough to roll them until he was on his back and Jim was seated above him, still impaled on his dick. Once he settled in, Jim began fucking himself on McCoy's cock with greedy abandon. McCoy felt an almost hedonistic pleasure watching the pretty boy enjoying his dick so much.

While Jim rode him hard, he reached down for the lube again and spread some on his hand before he reached down for Jim's dick to jack him off. Jim's eyes shot open and he sat back hard, burying McCoy all the way as he shouted, "Leo!" and came all over McCoy's hand.

Before Jim could go completely limp, McCoy quickly turned them again so that Jim was on his hands and knees with McCoy kneeling behind him. Jim's eyes were glazed with satisfaction as he turned to look at McCoy over his shoulder. "Come in me. I want your come in my ass," he slurred.

McCoy gripped Jim's hips and pulled him back onto his dick again and again until he felt the tightening in his balls. With a shudder and a shout, McCoy shot his load deep in Jim's ass until he was completely spent.

They collapsed onto the bed, both of them sweaty and drained. The exhaustion from the lack of sleep was finally catching up to McCoy, but he had to clean them up first. Jim was flopped onto his stomach, his face buried in the pillow. He could tell he wasn't quite asleep yet. "I'll be right back," he said.

He came back with a warm, wet washcloth and cleaned Jim up. After that, he crawled into bed and turned off the bedside lamp. Somewhat surprisingly, Jim curled into his side and stuck his nose in the space between his neck and shoulder. McCoy thought he should have minded, but he found that he really didn't. He was more relaxed than he would have thought possible with a one night stand.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard Jim mumble. "What's that?" he asked.

"Wha' kinna doctor y'wanna be?" Jim asked sleepily.

McCoy wondered why the kid even cared, but whatever. "Orthopedic surgeon," he replied.

"Like, bones or sommin'?" Jim sleep-slurred again.

"Yeah," he replied.

He felt Jim snuffle and nuzzle closer. "Huh. Bones. I like tha'. Y'smell good, by th'way."

He didn't know how to respond to that, but it didn't matter anyway because both of them were soon asleep.


End file.
